On this erased catwalk of colors
your face illuminates the past
I open my arms
and fondling the void
fear and another look
your hand and flick the small air
designing a sound
spreads, slowly like a dream
drunk certainty
Tripping in poetry barefoot.
this avenue without asphalt
the bus stop in life
I signal and nothing stops.
when your kiss,
serene in the pale morning,
was fired at me smiling little, I had agreed, who knows the rain cross my face, and lying grow, the silence inside me,
thinking of you.
Raridades extraídas de uma mente em fúria...pequenos espasmos de tristeza, alegria, Profundos e minúsculos terremotos de dor, caos e sonhos perfurados. Sabedoria em pílulas, engasgadas na garganta de Deus. Ópio e palpebras acesas. Uma vela diante da caverna.
